In wine there is
by archeress of silverbow
Summary: Wine can be used as a blessing, Wine can be used as a salve for pain, Wine carries prophecy and truth. Entered in Teitho Contest; Alcohol


**My entry for the Teitho Contest _Alcohol_**

**Enjoy**

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><p><em>Faramir looked up as his study door opened "<em>_Éowyn__, what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"_

_She smiled, eyes glinting, am I not allowed to speak to my husband while he works?_

_He met her gaze and pushed back his chair "of course." Then he noticed the letter in her hand "What's that?"_

"_An invitation for Éomer for us to attend the Midwinter Celebration. How should I answer it?"_

_Faramir held out his hands "However you wish Éowyn, though I for one should like to go. Boromir was allowed to grace Rohan with his presence when he came of age…" his head instinctively drooped and his voice softened "I was not"_

"_Faramir… his wife's voice carried a gentle warning, but has he met her eyes it became happier "Do not dwell on those days. Your father is gone, and you are Prince of Ithilian, and you are welcomed in Rohan whenever you wish to grace its halls." She kissed him gently and slipped out again. With a smile and a slight sigh Faramir sank back into his chair and contemplated the paper work littering his desk. It really wasn't worth the effort, but it would have to be done if he could ride away to Rohan with a __free __conscience._

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><p>Miserable and heartsick Boromir collapsed into the chair in his rooms. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He groped across the table, raggedly pouring a goblet full of wine from the flagon and swallowing it in a gulp. Woodenly he poured a second, downing it in the same fashion.<p>

It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

But the hole in his heart remained. The wine he swallowed burned his throat, but slowly seemed to numb everything else. Relieved he gulped down cup after cup, hardly noticing as his senses blurred and faltered. He would give up everything, just to forget.

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><p><em>The cold wind whipped his hair back from his face and seemed determined to wrench the thick cloak from his shoulders as it knifed at his chest. <em>

"_Wait!" _

_She twisted back to meet his eyes, then shook her head "Catch me if you can"_

_Laughing he urged the stallion faster, chasing Windfola and Éowyn across the valley towards Edoras, only drawing rein when he was dangerously close to running into the shut gate_

"_Hail Éowyn, of our hall, hail Faramir, Prince of ithilian. The gate guard's shout rang out as the wooden palisade opened under the arch "Happy midwinter"_

"_And the same to you Erkenbrand" Faramir replied as he entered Edoras, raising an arm in salute._

_Éomer came bounding down the steps to greet them, embracing his sister with one arm and reaching out with the other to clasp Faramir's forearm in the age old acknowledgement of warriors. "Welcome… Kinsman"_

_Faramir smiled and nodded, noting Éomer's non too furtive glance back down toward the gate "Their Royal highnesses the King and Queen of Gondor send their regrets of absence Éomer King ,I, as steward, attend in their stead." As he finished his formal speech he caught the eyes of his companions and they all burst out laughing._

_Éomer was first to recover and he slapped Faramir's shoulder approvingly "And now that the formalities are over… To celebration and the ale casks"_

_Still laughing they raced after him, Faramir taking the steps two at a time simply for the sake of it._

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><p><em>Inside Meduseld the ale and laughter flowed freely. Faramir took two steps backward at the roar of noise and bustle, only to feel Éowyn's hands on his forearm, gently leading him through the throng to a quieter corner where some chairs were set.<em>

_Safely ensconced he laughed, partially out of sudden comprehension and partially to release the tension._

_Éowyn watched with concern "What is it?"_

"_Nothing" He automatically took the cup she offered and raised it in a light toast "To the year that is gone, the one that will come, and to today Éowyn, happy midwinter." However before he could take a sip the cup was removed. He glanced up, meeting Éomer's laughing eyes with a frown. Still smiling the king revealed a wooden bowl with two horse heads as handles_

"_Here" _

_Mystified Faramir took it, turning it over and over in his hands "What is this?"_

_The only thing fit for the pair of you to drink from at this festival" _

_Éowyn gently took the cup, allowing her brother to fill it with the honey coloured mead from his wooden flask "It is a _Cuach_"_

_The reverence in her voice surprised Faramir and he wracked his brains for a contextual understanding of the name "A welcome cup?"_

_Éomer nodded and half shrugged "Yes, in one way. However _Blessing Cup_ might be the more appropriate translation… for it is used in blessings of all kind, including those of marriage and kinship"_

_Finally Faramir understood. Rising to his feet he placed his hands over Éowyn's to grasp the handles. Both holding it they lifted the cup and sipped together. _

_At once a cheer rang in the rafters and, glancing around, Faramir realised that the drink had been watched by the entire hall. Bemused he looked to Éomer, who smiled gently, his eyes warm_

"_Was hal cnéowmǽg_"

_He didn't need a translation to understand the Rohirric "Be well Kinsman". Shyly, a smile spreading across his face, he nodded both thanks and acceptance, saluting them with the _Cuach_. _

"_The Numenoreans used to say, in _Wine there is truth_… I say; In wine there is friendship, and much good cheer "_

_Then, embodied by their goodwill, and in no small part the mead, he dropped his head to Éowyn's and kissed her gently. Amidst the laughter she shoved him playfully away. _

"_You're tipsy"_

_He smiled , this time only for her "Perhaps I am, but I would rather be happy, in company and drunk than lonely and sober."_

_She stretched up to kiss him back "As would I"_

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><p>"Boromir? Can you hear me? Boromir?"<p>

He groaned, half opening one eye and then shutting it quickly as the light threatened to sear his very brain. Eyes still shut he struggled into a sitting position, only for his head to react as if it had just been shoved under a charge of both Gondorian Cavalry and several Éoreds. Moaning and cursing he cradled his forehead in his palms, begging the pain to recede long enough for him to think straight. His Uncle's angry voice cut through though, sharp as a dagger

"What were you playing at boy? You nearly died! There's a reason why that Strongwine is kept in the securest cellars. Why in the name of Morgoth did you drink three flagons neat in one go? Half of one should have had you dizzy."

Recognising that he was being interrogated Boromir summoned up a reply "It did, but I didn't care." He forced his eyes open and stared at his uncle "I wanted to die… I just wanted the pain to stop…" Tears began to pool and slide down his cheeks

Imrahil frowned "What pain? You're not wounded are you?"

For answer he simply placed his hand on his heart "Here…"

His uncle nodded "Faramir"

"Yes… and you know what I saw when I was unconscious? I saw Faramir"

"That's only to be expected, he died in your arms"

No…" Boromir shook his head, both in denial and an attempt to clear the fogginess in his brain "I saw him alive and living life, not just a recall of those last fateful moments…" He half smiled, still weeping "He was married Uncle, married to Éowyn of Rohan, and he was being accepted as kin of the Rohirrim… I saw what might have been, what _should_ have been." He flinched as the crack in his voice made his temples burn once more

"Boromir…" He could hear the tolerance in his uncle's voice, just avoiding patronisation levels "Neither you or I can see the future, nor will believing that something should have happened bring Faramir back." Imrahil stopped and Boromir found himself being pulled into an embrace "Don't ever do something like that again… I've already lost one nephew, don't deprive me of another." Then he stepped back "Sleep off your hangover and sick stomach, then your father wants to see you."

Boromir groaned as his uncle rose and the light became too much for his eyes again "He'll probably tell me off for this."

"…He wants you to go to Rivendell in the north… As to why, I have no idea."

"Faramir's dream…" All the answer he received was a shrug "Uncle, is it true that where Narsil's shards lie there also could the King be found?"

Imrahil nodded "So the legends say."

"Then I will go to Rivendell" Sighing he settled back against the pillows and drifted into a wobbly sleep

_In drink there is comfort, in wine there is truth_

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><p><strong>Reviews please?<strong>


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